


where do we draw the line

by Findarato



Category: Katsugeki!Touken Ranbu, 刀剣乱舞 | Touken Ranbu
Genre: Angst, Gap Filler, Loyalty Kink, M/M, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: So why do we keep up this charade and how do we tell apart the time to leave from the time to wait?- A Katsugeki fic about the three years that Horikawa spent in the Shinsengumi





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sekaiseifuku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekaiseifuku/gifts).



> I’ve always wanted to write this sort of fic for Katsugeki and Horikawa, so I was over the moon when I saw my Yuletide assignment this year. I’m a long time Shinsengumi fan so I will take any reason to write Shinsengumi, hah. That being said, there are million historical references, but I hope it’s not bogged down by those details.
> 
> (A few more notes, just for clarification)  
> This fic is told in parts, via the four seasons of the 3 yrs Horikawa spent with Hijikata. Chapter-wise, it’s two seasons per chapter. I’m playing loose and fast with the seasons, but the historical events should be mostly be the right season.
> 
> This version of Hijikata that I wrote is based on a combination of canons, most noticeably influenced by Toumyu and Hakuouki. Horikawa is himself as found in Katsugeki, Toumyu, and in-game; as is Kanesan.
> 
> There’s a lot of inspiration that I drew Toumyu, particularly Tenrouden and Musuhaji.
> 
> Lastly, this fic is rated E for a reason 8) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

** where do we draw the line  
**

**PROLOGUE**  
  
_**2205**_  
   
Manifesting is a strange feeling. Alive, awake, aware, and warm…the words to describe the sensations are too many but also not enough. He had his first step towards the saniwa, and blurted out his first words.  
   
_‘Excuse me! Has Kane-san—Izuminokami Kanesada hasn’t come here yet, has he?’ Wait, that’s not right. ‘Ah, I’m Horikawa Kunihiro! Let’s get along!’_  
   
“That wasn’t very graceful,” he now says to himself as he sits on the edge of the engawa, a book in his hands. He’s supposed to read it, but it’s hard when every sound, or even a flash of light, distracts his attention. He’s also more interested in the plate of sweets that was brought to him. Next time, he tells himself, he’ll introduce himself properly to the others.  
   
He’s also waiting. Kanesan is out on a mission, but is expected back today. Aruji had told him—right after the introduction and a Konnosuke’s short summary of where they were at this point of the fighting.  
   
In that moment, he had experience the first sensation of his heart beating strangely, his vision both sharpening and blurring, and his mind faltering.  
   
Izuminokami Kanesada is here.  
   
He finally bookmarks his page and lies down. Maybe if he sleeps, it’ll go faster. It’ll be his first time doing that, too. He finds himself mimicking sleeping positions until he finds the one that he likes best, before closing his eyes.  
   
Does he have to slow his breath? Did humans count the number of times their heart would beat? Are they aware of their limbs and how fabric touches their skin, or how hair is soft and ticklish, but still bristly?  
   
He’s not sure if he actually napped or if he was being led by his thoughts, but hearing footsteps has him sitting back up, fingers fumbling to smooth down his clothes.  
   
The instant Kanesan steps around the corner is his second moment of thrilled happiness and exhilaration.  
   
“Ka—” Horikawa stumbles towards him, and thankfully doesn’t fall. “—ne-san!”  
   
A series of emotions cross Kanesan’s face, too quick for him to catch or comprehend. But the last one is that of happiness, and Horikawa smiles because of it.  
   
“Kunihiro.” Kanesan’s voice is deep, and even though it is his first time hearing it, it sounds so familiar. So is the smile, the warmth, and everything about him.  “You made it.”  
   
“I did.” He’s never going to be as happy as he is in this moment, is he. He reaches out a hand. “Thank you for welcoming me.”  
   
The grasp of his hand is tight, and altogether too quick. Kanesada embodies the colour red and blue—Shinsengumi colours, course. “I came as soon as aruji told me. Did he tell you what we do?”  
   
“He did.” Horikawa straightens himself up, and he’s proud of himself for not tripping. “Will we be working together?”  
   
“I’m sure we will.”  
   
“I’m glad to see you.” Kanesan is _here_. _With him_. Horikawa cannot believe how fortunate he is.  
   
“Me too, Kunihiro.” Kanesan reaches his hand out, hesitating slightly before he rest his fingers against Horikawa’s head.  
   
“I’ll make sure to be someone worthy,” Horikawa adds on, somewhat unsure of what he’s saying, but the words seem right. “Of being your partner.” Because that’s what they were in history, so it would make sense that here was same, right?  
   
Kanesan once again at that flash of emotions crossing his face, but he doesn’t pull away. “Yeah. I know you will, Kunihiro.”  
   
Horikawa will never grow tired of the way Kanesan says his name.

 


	2. FIRST YEAR: spring and summer

 

 

>  
> 
> _Because I’ll be here for a while, it only makes sense to document the journey. For who? Myself, because I’m experiencing this life a second time. Maybe for Kanesan, if he wants to read it. I will definitely meet him again at the end of this. I wonder what face he’ll make, and what words he’ll say to me.  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _I offered him the chance to break me, and he didn’t. In my heart, I knew he wouldn’t. Despite his looks and his manners, he’s kind. Hijikata, even with his title of oni-fukuchou, is still kind in many ways. He draws people to him, and Kanesan does the same. He makes a good leader._
> 
> _Me? I’m not a leader. I’m always the best at supporting, the best at shadowing. I’m Kanesan’s partner and assistant.  
>  _
> 
> _I’ve never been apart from him. He arrived at the Citadel before, and showed me the way. I’m grateful, but I can’t help but feel that I must work this out for myself, the things that I am fighting for._
> 
> _I don’t want Kanesan to cry again._
> 
> _I want to protect history._
> 
> _I want to protect Hijikata-san._
> 
> _It’s impossible, but I’ll find a way. I’m already here, in this broken history. I, Horikawa Kunihiro, will only do what I can._

**_Keio 2/1866, spring_ **

Hijikata receives his report with a nod and a searching look, and Horikawa knows what it’s far.  
   
“You’ve probably received this question several times, but…what’s with your eyes?”  
   
“I was made like this,” is Horikawa’s prompt response. “I’m not sure why, but it is what it is.” At least blue is a natural eye colour; what would he do if he had orange or yellow eyes like some of the other swords...  
   
“Hm. Made like that, huh.”  
   
“Maybe it draws too much attention…” He could always take to wearing hats when outside. “I know someone else with blue eyes, so I never thought much of it.”  
   
“Well, it's fine.” Hijikata gazes at them for a millisecond longer before he goes back to the papers on his desk. “People can get used to them. They don’t hinder your ability to see or to fight, and that’s what matters.”  
   
Horikawa laughs, because it’s such a reflection of what Hijikata believes. “I’ll do my best, Hijikata-san.” He rises from his position. “Someone said dinner is soon; shall I call for you…?”  
   
“Mm.” Hijikata is already focused on his writing.  
   
He’ll take that as a yes. As he slides the door shut, he realises it’s not too different from how it is with Kanesan. The same kind of focus, the same attention, down to the way they arch their eyebrows.  
   
It had taken most of his will to not look at the far end of the wall, where Hijikata keeps his swords. He does not want to look at Kanesan, and think about how only a month ago, he had walked away from Him. He also does not want to look at himself, because he is not ready for that yet.  
   
Horikawa, duties completed for now, wanders Nishi-Honganji. It’s strange; he has been here before, but without a body or soul or mind, but now that he does, it’s as if history has filled his memories for him. He knows nearly all the men by name and appearance, knows the city of Kyoto without a map, and knows the taste of foods. He knows this blue haori, which he now wears, too.  
   
And Hijikata? The closest he can get to meeting a deity, after meeting his smith, of course. Maybe someday that will happen. But meeting Hijikata, being a part of the Shinsengumi like this, is good for now.  
   
His first day had been…interesting. Somehow he forgot no one really walks up to the Shinsengumi asking to join; most people waited for recruitment posts to go up, whereupon an unsteady line would form, since they would have to go against one of the captains to test their mettle. He hadn’t been worried about his skills, of course—Touken Danshi had more than enough strength and skill, but maybe he needs to work on his introductions more.  
   
He forgot to make a false name, for one. Blurting out “Horikawa Kuni” and stopping yourself too late is one way to give yourself away, but amazingly, no one caught on.  
   
Second, he should’ve held back just a little; he had cracked his bokken and probably caused a riot had he not purposefully lowered his guard and received a painful bruise across his shoulder blade. Nagakura Shinpachi was a devil and did not believe in going easy.  
   
Finally, he hadn’t really gotten the time to come up with an alibi for his supposed human history. But hey, he has charm on his side, and he’s quick to think, so saying “I had a master but we disagreed—oh and I had a falling-out with my partner, so now I’m here” convincingly while throwing in that he has no family (a lie; his brothers will not be hearing of this), actually worked.  
   
Luck was on his side that day. Or maybe it was that Hijikata had been out, so the one that allowed him in had been Kondou Isami. Iwas only later that week he had met Hijikata…  
   
_‘You.’_  
  
_On kitchen duty, he had been in middle of washing dishes when he had heard that voice, the one that he knows from memory. He turned slowly. ‘Yes?’_  
  
_‘You’re the one they’ve been talking about. The one that walked right in without any recommendations or introductions.’_  
  
_‘News travels fast.’ Horikawa dried his hands the best he could behind his back. ‘Yes, that’s me.’_  
  
_‘How old are you?’_  
  
_‘Twenty.’ Or did he say he was nineteen? He should begin to write all these details down…_  
  
_‘You nearly bested one of my captains.’_  
  
_‘Oh no, that was only in the beginning. I was overpowered later.’ Tugging the collar of his kimono, he revealed the blossomed bruise. ‘I’m glad to find men so strong.’_  
  
_‘Is that why you joined?’_  
  
_‘I joined because I have something to protect and something I believed in, and I believe it can be found here.’ The answer is almost painfully textbook, but it’s all true._  
  
_Hijikata seemed satisfied, at least. ‘Keep at it, and maybe you’ll be an instructor. What was your name, again?’_  
  
_‘You can call me Horikawa.’ A dead giveaway, but he has to stick with it._  
  
_Amazingly, this is not noticed. ‘Horikawa? A good family name.’ Maybe swords did have a certain magic, to be able to blend in somewhat._  
  
_‘Thank you, Hijikata-san.’ Next to Kanesan, saying ‘Hijikata-san’ was just as good._  
  
_‘I’ll leave you those dishes.’ And then he’s gone._  
   
Horikawa had to sit down after that. His first talk with Hijikata, and he had been quite the mess. It’s almost as bad as when he first met Kanesan, tripping all over himself.  
   
He rouses himself out of his meandering when he realises how much time has passed. He can’t afford to think so much about Kanesan, not when he still has a long way to go before Hakodate.  
   
He’s only just begun, after all.

 

**=**

**Keio 2/1866, summer**

Kyoto summers are as he remembers—hot, muggy, and heavy.  
   
Horikawa has stopped drawing so many stares once people are accustomed to him. Or maybe, it was his presence when training. He’s not built like Kanesan, but he has agility and flexibility that is worth envying. The charm helps, too—smiles are very disarming, as is earnestness, and he has both aplenty.  
   
The Shinsengumi routine he has long ago fallen into without much trouble. Patrols, training, other duties, undertaking various orders and missives…it all blended together. He’s a model Shinsengumi member.  
   
Except for when he disappears to fight the Revisionist Army. He has no true way of telling when they appear, but his senses, the constant surveillance of the skies, and paying attention to what does around him does enough. Enemies appear often enough, and at this point, seeing a large number has become the usual.  
   
It seemed so long since Kanesan had told him, _“The careless ones are the first to die. That’s the kind of environment you and I work in.”_  
   
He still thinks about those words. Even now, as he makes his way back to the Shinsengumi quarters after a night of taking out enemies, he says them to himself. Surely by now, Horikawa can’t be considered new at this anymore, despite only two missions, technically.  
   
What would Kanesan think of him? What would the others think?  
   
He’s stopped expecting someone to show up and take him back to the citadel; it seems that they are letting this happen, for whatever reasons. Maybe they want to see if they really go through with it.  
   
No one really notices his comings and goings; there was a curfew but they didn’t do a head count. He jumps a roof and that is that. Tonight the humidity is like a thick blanket, and maybe it’s affected the amount of enemies that showed up, seeing that he’s back earlier than some other nights.  
   
Horikawa spots a low light coming from Kondou’s room—it’s not uncommon, but there’s voices. After a moment of indecisiveness, he decides to take a look.  
   
It’s Hijikata and Kondou, sharing sake and what looks to be dango. They’re smiling, probably reminiscing about old days…  
   
He can never get enough of looking at Hijikata. People say he looked like an actor, and in this lighting, with the shadows all soft, he does—down to the finely-shaped jawline and his dark, dark hair. Like a living work of art.  
   
“I know you’re out there. You can come out.”  
   
Art, however, is not as wary or keen. Horikawa, capable of sneaking around almost everyone, is caught. Not that he minds. He’ll probably just get an earful about curfew.  
   
“Oh, it’s you.”  
   
“Good evening, Kondou-san,” he says as he steps out of the shadows, bowing. “Good evening, Hijikata-san.”  
   
Hijikata has a flush to his face, and he speaks his words more deliberately. “Were you training? In this heat?”  
   
Ah, that’s right, he’s still carrying his sword. “It’s never too hot for training.” That’s obviously a lie; the neckline and sleeves of his kimono are soaked in sweat. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I heard voices.”  
   
“It’s good to be diligent, but you shouldn’t overexert yourself, Horikawa-kun.” Kondou holds out a plate. “Here, take one.”  
   
“I shouldn’t—”  
   
“It’s fine, take it and sit down!”  
   
Well, that’s an invitation, isn’t it. “Thank you.” The chewiness and flavour were good—he hasn’t had dango in a while, actually. “Both of you seem to be in a good mood. Are you celebrating something?”  
   
“Not exactly.” Hijikata sets his cup down, rattling it somewhat. “Figured tonight is as good as any night for sake. More and more things are happening, so who knows when we’ll get another chance? And the sake was a gift.”  
   
“But we’ve barely made a dent!” Kondou says this a little loudly, laughing.  
   
It’s a well-known fact that neither Kondou or Hijikata were good with alcohol. Horikawa chews his lip to avoid smiling too much. “It’s still early, so you have time.”  
   
Hijikata straightens his back. “You know what would be better? If we had a third person drinking.”  
   
Oh? “But…”  
   
“You look young, and you’re not tall, but I bet you could drink more than the two of us put together. Hey, Kondou-san,” Hijikata waves a hand, “Do you have anymore cups in your room?”  
   
“Of course! You know I always kept one around for…well.” A shadow briefly flickers over his face before it’s gone. “Make yourself comfortable, Horikawa-kun.”  
   
How is he supposed to say no? Horikawa nods, and inches himself over to the engawa. It feels…wrong, in some way.  
   
He’s not supposed to be here.  
   
But Okita is in bed, coughing his life away.  
   
“Horikawa.” Hijikata is looking at him.  
   
“Yes?”  
   
“Why do you look so serious?”  
   
“I have a lot to think about.” About history, about the Shinsengumi, about Hijikata, about Kanesan… “Is it really all right for me to be here?”  
   
“Why not? You’re not the type to drunk or picking fights, and you’re not sneaking out at night to go to Shimabara or anything of that sort.” Hijikata pours himself another cupful. “You fight with heart and you obey orders pretty damn well. Of course you belong here.”  
   
There’s no alcohol in his system yet, but hearing all that, is more of a rush than the best sake. “I’m honoured, Hijikata-san. I know I haven’t been here long, but I hope…I’m of help.”  
   
He does not say “I hope I’m a good assistant.” He is still Kanesan’s assistant, first and foremost.  
   
“Good. Now relax.”  
   
“Relax?”  
   
“Yes, relax.”  
   
Horikawa slowly exhales, shoulders loosening. “Thank you, Hijikata-san.”  
   
Kondou returns with the promised cup, and Hijikata pours for him.

It’s…surreal. He did not think of this as a possibility.

But how could he say no, when Hijikata attempts to compose haiku about sake and Kondou’s face is so red he looks as if he’s been in the baths for hours? The sake and laughter mix, as do the stories. Stories that he’s lived once, so long ago, but now are so present.

He actually does outdrink the two of them, by quite a bit.


	3. FIRST YEAR: fall and winter

> _ When I remember how young all of them are, it makes me wonder what kind of life they could have if they had a choice. What sort of morals would they follow, where destiny would lead them. _
> 
> _ Would more of them have lived to an old age? Would they have married? _
> 
> _ What if the Shinsengumi never existed? _
> 
> _ Then there would be no Izuminokami Kanesada forged. _
> 
> _ There’s some things that I can’t imagine to be altered. _
> 
> _ It’s probably a bad thing that I have so much time to think. _

  


**_Keio 2/1866, autumn_ **

Only a few months in, he’s homesick. That’s the word humans used to describe nostalgia that sat in your chest and made it hard to focus on things because you were thinking about home, about people, that you had to leave behind when you walked away.  
   
It’s strange how it hits all of sudden; Horikawa had been watching Hijikata and Kondou again, with Okita making a rare appearance. And they had talked about their families.  
   
It made him think of Yamabushi, and Yamanbagiri. It makes him think about the other Shinsengumi swords.  
   
It makes him think about Kanesan.  
   
Homesickness lingers.  
   
A day, two days—and it starts raining. He feels heavier than ever. Maybe it has to do with it summer passing, too. It’s a great time for feeling lost. It hasn’t even been a year, and he wonders, honestly, if he can keep this up. He is literally waiting for death, for the end, just so he can amend one single thing for Kanesan.  
   
Horikawa finally steps out in the rain with an umbrella; he’s free and there’s no one from the Revisionary Army out, and it might clear his thoughts. He gets no further than a few steps before he nearly runs into Hijikata.  
   
“Going out for a walk?” Hijikata also carried an umbrella. Somehow, it makes him look more imposing.  
   
Horikawa tilts his own umbrella upwards so that he can see. “Yes.”  
   
“In this rain?”  
   
He’ll have to dry his shoes out later, but it’s not terrible. “Yes.”  
   
“You’re a strange one.”  
   
“But you’re coming from the rain yourself.”  
   
Hijikata snorts. “I’m not out because I want to be. I was out buying medicine.”  
   
“But don’t you—”  
   
“Don’t I what?”  
   
He might’ve been about to say something regarding Ishida Sanyaku, but maybe he shouldn’t bring it up. “Is it for you?”  
   
“No. It’s for Kondou-san. He’s got a cold.”  
   
“Oh.”  
   
“And I picked up something for Souji. He’s been asking me for days.”  
   
Horikawa chooses his next words carefully. “I saw him yesterday. He was walking on his own.”  
   
“It was a good day for him.” Hijikata lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and a cascade of collected raindrops falls from his umbrella. “But not today.”  
   
“I’m sorry.”  
   
“We all are. But, listen—he wasn’t always like this. Sometimes I forget you joined us only a few months ago.” Horikawa listens to Hijikata’s voice dropping in tone. “A year ago, he was knocking out people left and right. He was the type to hit first and ask questions later.”  
   
_I know. His swords are the same._  
   
“I saw him grow up, saw him become he who is…and now I’m going to outlive him, aren’t I.”  
   
_Only by a year._  
   
“Sometimes I wonder, if coming here had been a good idea. Maybe if we all just stayed in Edo, he wouldn’t have gotten sick.”  
   
It’s as if Hijikata has forgotten whom he’s talking to.  
   
He clears his throat first before he speaks again. “But that’s a lot of ifs, isn’t it.” Never mind the fact that Horikawa isn’t supposed to be here at all, and he shouldn’t even talking about ifs when he’s running up against the facts that will happen. “It wouldn’t be the Shinsengumi without you or Kondou-san, or even Okita-san. As well as your captains.”  
   
“We’re less buddy-buddy these days, if you couldn’t tell. Support the shogunate; the benefits are food and a roof over head and the hatred of a whole city. Isn’t it great?”  
   
He has no answer to that.  
   
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to trouble you.” Hijikata glances away. “Don’t ever try to be ambitious and lead. You’ll end up like me.”  
   
“No, I’m meant for support.”  
   
“Are you?”  
   
“Yes, I—I used to.” Some support he was to Kanesan. He can literally count the number of times Kanesan has counted on him. Kanesan was so strong and capable at fighting. “Some people are the assistants, and others are the leaders.”  
   
“That’s one way to put it, isn’t it.”  
   
“I trust in your decisions, Hijikata-san. And I believe everyone else does, too.” He knows there will be a time when the Shinsengumi is almost completely fragmented, but there’s still time.  
   
Seeing Hijikata’s smile is a privilege. “Thanks.”  
   
It’s never been easy for the Shinsengumi. And it never will.  
   
Horikawa shifts on his feet. “I’m keeping you, aren’t I?”  
   
“Both of them were sleeping the last time I looked in on them.” Hijikata passes by him, their conversation over. “I’ll see you later, Horikawa. Enjoy the walk—if you can.”  
   
“I’ll try!”  
   
He steps through puddles and mud, past the shops and the people. Rain soaks his sleeves and hakama, and the weight of everything is heavier.  
   
But his heart is lighter again, when he thinks about that smile.  
  


**=**

   
**Keio 2/1866, winter**  
   
The first winter he experiences with this body is an unremarkable one. There’s snow, there’s ice, and wind. His fingers hurt, so he’s taken to wearing his old gloves with extra pieces of fabric sewn over the crest. Winter means less for the Shinsengumi to do, except train.  
   
They let him instruct now, which is nice. No one comments about his appearance anymore, and in fact, they’re treating him quite well. If only Kanesan could see him now, getting the hang of acting human. He still remembers when he had first messed up the buttons on his jacket, and Kanesan had to fix them. There was also how he had to remember to eat and drink, to sleep…  
   
Horikawa finds that he misses Konnosuke very much for the purposes of calculating and information; but any appearance of the Revisionist Army is a bad appearance. He counts two yari, three tantou, and one uchigatana—a full unit’s worth. That’s actually quite little, compared to some of the numbers he’s fought the past few months  
  
He likes that he doesn’t ever have to hold back. He leaps down, sandals slipping a little until he digs his toes. The air smells cold and sharp, like his blade that he unsheathes and points at them.  
   
_Come at me._  
   
A thrill runs through his body and he uses the force of it as he attacks first. Tantou still remain the most graceful and light-footed, but the speed of a wakizashi is nothing to be laughed it. He seamlessly slashes through a yari and drives his blade through the spine of the uchigatana, black smoke swirling around him in a satisfying way. He smells iron—or maybe blood. It doesn’t matter, because they both are the same thing to a sword.  
   
The remaining tantou converge on him, just a little out of his reach, and he ends up having to feint and push himself against a wall so that they come to him. One nearly nicks his face, cutting his sleeve instead as he dodges and takes out all of them.  
   
It’s rather easy. Almost too easy.  
   
Horikawa kills the last yari in an alleyway, gutting his throat and then stabbing him clean in the chest.  
   
There hadn’t even been time to really raise his heartrate, it was also disappointing. He looks up at the sky, the dark blue giving way to pink and orange clouds. A trail of birds crosses his gaze, and he hears the city beginning to wake up.  
   
_Time to go._  
   
But he lingers; something tells him to.  
  
And it’s a good choice, because there’s more circles of light in the sky. Seems like they wanted to active tonight.  
  
So now, Horikawa is sliding along the rooftops with a calculated movements, spinning at a moment’s notice to compensate. His breath fogs the air and his lungs ache, but it’s still satisfying to stab and watch them fade into smoke.  
   
If only human bodies weren’t so affected by the cold. Despite his agility, he finds himself moving slower, his fingers numb and his toes slipping a bit more. It’s dark, even with the snow being illuminated by waning moon.  
   
There’s a greater number of tantou than before, weaving and ducking his movements. Of course they don’t seem bothered. Maybe because they don’t have human forms? Why indeed did aruji give them human forms…he could’ve just summoned their sword forms to use as he wished.  
   
There would be less conflict, too, since there would be no room for emotions or memories.  
   
A blade grazes his thigh, and Horikawa pushes his limits, straining for a few moments as he steps faster and goes on full offense. Sweat forms on the back of his neck, tickling him.  
   
It takes him longer than he wants to finish them off this time, and he has to sit down, icy roof or no.  
   
The cut on his thigh isn’t deep, but it does bleed. He bandages it the best he can for now, and eases himself off the roof. Without a saniwa, his injuries heal at a human’s pace. He has his first scar on his right elbow, the second one on his knee. He stopped counting after that.

Selfishly, he wants them to remain, for the reminder that they would be.  
  
Horikawa leans against the wall and sighs. Weariness creeps in out of nowhere and he can’t believe it’s only been a short while since he joined. However, it’s also been a while since he was away.  
  
You don’t realise how much you miss something until you no longer have it—that’s a cliché thought, but one that rings true. He misses the routine of the citadel, he misses the food, his brothers, his clothes—he misses Kanesan.  
   
A shiver that starts in his shoulders finds its way into his chest, and it feels like he can’t breathe. He grips his arms, sees a flash of colour, and maybe he temporarily dies, he thinks, as he slowly sits down. The cold seeps in more and more, and maybe he’s just being frozen and he swears his fingers are going numb.  
   
It eventually eases. A lack of sleep? Probably. Or maybe the rush of adrenaline from fighting.  
   
Looking at the sky is giving him no answers, but at least—the sky here and the sky back at home were the same. He watches until the sun is visible, and only then does he return.  
  
The walk back to the Shinsengumi quarters isn’t long, but he’s limping as he arrives, out of breath and exhausted. Amazingly, he still gets in without attracting attention, even in the state he’s in.  
   
Maybe because no one expected him to be the kind of person to sneak out.  
   
Or, he’s just that good.  
   
He should really tend his injury, but instead he heads for the kitchen, where he can make himself tea. On his way, he notices that Hijikata’s light is still on.  
   
He comes out bearing two cups of a tea; even with a limp, he can carry tea without spilling it.

Horikawa taps his knuckles against the door. “Hijikata-saaaan,” he calls out, softly above a whisper.  
   
No answer.  
   
Upon pulling the door open, he sees the vice commander asleep at his desk, head pillowed on one arm.  
   
_You look so much like Kanesan, when you sleep. The same expression in the mouth._  
  
The brazier is almost out. Horikawa stirs the ashes and adds more wood. He tidies the room, because he might as well if he is here. Hijikata does not wake up, not even when Horikawa sets the cup down.  
   
It’s a bold move, but he takes the haori and drapes it over Hijikata’s shoulders. Something twists in his chest, and he looks slowly over at the stand where the swords are.  
   
Kanesan must be judging him, and so is previous self.

He’s sure of it. But he looks anyway, until he can’t anymore, and he looks at Hijikata instead. There were few leaders like him. There were fewer true warriors than leader, and there was no one like Hijikata.  
   
“I’m proud to be yours,” he says softly, the words low and reverberating in his throat. “Kanesan and I both.”  
   
He almost brushes the strand of hair out of Hijikata’s eyes, but stops himself.  
   
But he does briefly touch his hand to the tsuba of Kanesan’s past self, the metal colder than the ice outside, before he hurriedly takes himself of there.  
   
_I can’t let my resolve be altered._  
 


	4. SECOND YEAR: spring and summer

 

> _ I managed to catch the last of the cherry blossoms. They gave everyone a day off to enjoy the view, and I have to admit—it’s beautiful.  _

> _ To be able to view it as a human, holding them in my hand, this image forever imprinted into my mind, it’s so different. I can’t understand anyone scoffing at flower-viewing. They bloom and wither in months. They’re the perfect example of life, especially that of a warrior’s.  _

> _ A loss is a loss, and I know who is next to die in the Shinsengumi. I know who will last and who doesn’t.  _

> _ If I could, I would save all of them. I think all of us swords have had thought. But I can’t act on all my thoughts. I’m only acting on one desire, and it’s for Kanesan. My desire to never have him cry that way again, my desire to see Hijikata-san survive to see a new era. If Nagakura Shinpachi and Saitou Hajime could live on, I’m sure he could, too.  _

> _ I don’t know how to convince him. Not yet. My last conversation with Kanesan ended in dividing us. No doubt, he knows what I’ve planned. I backed him into a corner.  _

> _ He could’ve killed me. Hijikata would’ve cut me down if I were one of his men or told me to commit seppuku.  _

> _ He didn’t. Is it because I’m his partner and his assistant? Is it the fact we are both that man’s swords? What is Kanesan thinking right now?  _
> 
> _ Does he think about me?  _
> 
> _ Does he think about my words?  _

> _ I think about him every hour when I’m not thinking about Hijikata-san, about how to best assist him. Kanesan is so strong, he’d be fine without me, but the fact he came looking for me and he was so angry meant he was concerned.  _

> _ Maybe I’m just bad at persuasion. I didn’t use the right words. Now it is a standstill, but I worry if I’m the indecisive one, despite being here in the Bakumatsu era. Maybe I’m weak. I can’t even tell Hijikata-san that I want to protect him.  _

> _ ‘More warrior-like than a warrior.’ He says that often.  _

> _ But what do those words mean to his swords? What does it mean to me? Swords are made to cut, and I have cut so many down. Blood is not disgusting, and sound of screaming doesn’t cause me to back away. Anyone can wield a sword, but not everyone is a warrior, or a samurai.  _

> _ Hijikata is one, with no doubt. But is a sword a warrior, or a tool of one? This role I’ve found for myself, do I carry it out as a sword or as a human? I’ve asked myself this question so many times.  _

> _ This is probably why Kanesan left me go, because of my weakness. I think I disappointed him. _

**Keio 3/1867, spring**  
   
Spring brings flowers, rain, and dissent. Itou Kashitarou will take a group, and they will leave to be Guards of the Emperor’s Tomb—Toudou Heisuke and Saitou Hajime among them. Only one of them will return.  
   
Swords, upon manifesting, don’t actually know all history. They only know the parts that they have lived in. Horikawa’s sense of time goes beyond the Shinsengumi, but since he wasn’t owned by a great warlord, he missed out on large events. Still, he has to count himself lucky that he wasn’t privately owned or locked away. He had the privilege of understanding a man and his motives, and seeing him to his death.  
   
A fulfilling life, for sure.  
   
Yet at the moment, fulfilling is not the word he would use to describe himself. He’s laid up with a cold; a few too many nights outside, without a scarf or extra haori.  
   
This would be his first sickness, and he hates it. The aches all over, his useless throat, the clogged sinuses, the tiredness, the fever…he should write a book titled ‘One Hundred Ways I Dislike Human Bodies.’  
   
Shinsengumi are thankfully allowed sick days; Hijikata took on look at him and had pointed him back inside. So inside he goes, under the blankets and smothering himself in the layers.  
   
_I’m glad Kanesan can’t see me right now._ It would be so embarrassing; he’s come to understand that he doesn’t like being incompetent. If he’s going to be Kanesan’s partner and assistant, he shouldn’t be so pathetic.  
   
The joys that are colds make him hot and then cold, and he tosses his blankets away, only to pull them back. He finishes his water, but getting more seems so far off. His mind drifts, seeking for a placehold. Something to anchor him to sleep and distracting thoughts…  
   
_‘How’s your writing.’ Hijikata asks him one day._  
  
_‘My writing?’_  
  
_‘Is it neat?’_  
  
_‘…yes?’_  
  
_A bundle of papers is thrust at him. Hijikata gestures at the first few. ‘Those are draft missives that I’ve written. I don’t have the time to make a final version.’_  
  
_‘I see.’ Horikawa takes the papers. ‘I’ll do my best.’_  
  
_In a little less than an hour, he has them done, sans Hijikata’s official seal._  
  
_Hijikata looks them over. “Huh.”_  
  
_‘Is this all right?’_  
  
_‘I like that you matched my handwriting quite closely. You have skills I’m apparently unaware of.’_  
  
_Like master, like sword. Horikawa hides his smile. ‘I practiced.’ Kanesan’s handwriting is exactly the same; Horikawa is slightly neater with words._  
  
_‘I might end up asking you to do this more often.’_  
  
_‘If it’s of help to Hijikata-san, I’m glad to do it!’_  
  
_‘I’ll keep that in mind.’_  
   
Hijikata had. Even right now, there’s a document on Horikawa’s desk that he still hasn’t finished, thanks to his headache and the words swimming all over the page.  
   
Come to think of it, his responsibilities have all but tripled. That’s what happens when he doesn’t have a social life, but he can’t be fighting the Revisionist Army at every second, so he might as well put himself closer to Hijikata.  
   
_But I also can’t help it. I was his sword…swords are naturally drawn to their old masters._  
   
He thinks about how a year ago, Mutsunokami had tried his best to avoid Sakamoto Ryouma, only to have to save him with his own hands. How he and Kanesan had almost run right into Hijikata, despite them having other intentions.  
   
_The unofficial rule about avoiding their masters is a stupid one._  
   
Thinking this thought directly is probably rebellion, but it’s not as if it’s a huge deal compared to what he’s doing right now. He’s the first sword to run off like this, and will probably be last. What he doesn’t understand is why aruji hasn’t sent anyone for him right now. Maybe they’re waiting for him to fail so they could say ‘See, changing history isn’t worth it.’  
   
Or something. He’ll get an earful from Kanesan for sure.  
   
_Is it wrong to follow my determination or my dreams? Is it wrong to want something that won’t make Kanesan sad?_ Horikawa shoves the blankets away, pushing himself up on shaky hands. _Is it a bad thing to change just one small element of history for selfish reasons?_  
   
He needs water. And food. And he needs to stop thinking. Before he can get up, someone taps on his door and then slides it open.  
   
“Oh, Hijikata-san.” This is not what he expected.  
   
“Don’t get up.”  
   
“But—” He sees the tray. This is not how it’s supposed to be.  
   
“I can make it an order.”  
   
He sits back down. You don’t argue with Hijikata, unless you have a strong will. Horikawa has no will right now for anything.  
   
“I came to get the document.”  
   
“I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”  
   
“You finished three others yesterday. One isn’t a huge deal.”  
   
“I could—”  
   
“No. You’re going to drink this soup, take this medicine, and sleep.” Hijikata sets the tray down. “I have plenty of damn experience at this, so any sad puppy looks or complaints aren’t going to be taken. I’ll use force if I have to.”  
   
“It’s like someone I know.”  
   
“Someone?”  
   
“Used to know, I mean.” Threatened force, didn’t really follow through with it. Showed his worry by careless words, but his actions said otherwise. Horikawa takes the broth, his hand instantly warmed. “He would say similar things.”  
  
“So you’re saying that you tend to hang around people of my type.”  
  
“In a way, yes…” That was one way of putting it. But it’s mostly just Kanesan and Hijikata. “I think I’ll be fine.”  
  
“Don’t get sick often, do you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You’re handling it fine.” The light press of a hand to his forehead is quick, too quick for him to formulate any thoughts. “Just take the medicine. If you’re fine tomorrow, you can help. But if not, you’re staying this room, resting.” Hijikata emphasis the word, and sets packet down on the tray. “Understood?”  
  
“Understood, Hijikata-san.”  
  
“Glad we’re clear on that.” The edge of Hijikata’s mouth curves, and then he’s gone.  
  
That was maybe three minutes, maybe five. Horikawa still holds the broth, which he’s barely started on.  
  
It seems that he’s doing something right, for Hijikata to show extra concern like that.  
  
Horikawa inhales the steam from the bowl in his hands, as deeply as he can.  
  
_I wonder if this would make Kanesan jealous._  
  
It just might...if Kanesan were willing to hear about his comings and goings in the Shinsengumi. When he closes his eyes, he can still remember Kanesan’s face when he was walking away.  
  
That’s betrayal, isn’t it.  
  
Horikawa scalds his tongue, but it’s a good pain, the kind that stops him from thinking anymore about the day he left.

 

 

 

 

**=**

**Keio 3/1867, summer**

History moved along; the Shinsengumi were now the retainers of the shogunate, and some people didn’t like it, captains included. But it was rather insignificant in the scope of things to happen the rest of the year. There was also the move to Fudodo Village, which was also uneventful. The last semi-permanent residence for the Shinsengumi, and after that, the uprooting to Edo, then various other places.

Horikawa thinks of it as the last bit of peace, the final enjoyment of being carefree. No one is getting younger; he is the only one who has stayed the same.

He wishes that swords could age like humans. It’s not very practical, but in theory, it would be nice to grow old with your master, side by side, until you outlived him and then carried their legacy on until you died, too. That’s how human life worked.

Not swords. Sword lived on, longer than ever. Made to endure, with memories and feelings.

Hijikata’s voice cuts through his envisionings. “You sure like drifting in your thoughts, Horikawa.”

Horikawa goes back to his task, which is helping Hijikata put away things. There’s actually not much, but when you’re vice commander, you don’t have much time. “I guess daydreaming is a pastime of mine.”

“You’re very far away.”

“Only by a year or so.” He still thinks about Kanesan.

“Ah, that’s right. You’ve been here for a year or so, haven’t you.”

“Time passes quickly when you’re busy.”

“Are you saying I overwork you?”

“You overwork yourself, Hijikata-san.”

“Leave me out of this. I can’t help it.” Hijikata tosses a ball of crumpled paper his way. “Anyway, congratulations for surviving the year.”

“You make it sound like it was hell.‘”

“They don’t call me oni-fukuchou for fun, you know.”

“I know.” Horikawa very camly folds a kimono. “You’re a fearsome demon.”

“At least sound sincere when you say that.”

“But I always am sincere!”

“Tch.”

Horikawa realises that he is smiling. A lot. When he start smiling like this, unconsciously so? Was it even right to do, when the Shinsengumi is heading towards war and death?

“Hijikata-san.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask something.” He’s just about done putting things away, so now is a good time for questions, isn’t it?

“Ask.”

“Well…” he hesitates, then plunges in. “How would feel if you had to do something, that no one would understand, but it was important to you, so you did it anyway.”

“Depends on the consequences.”

“If they were bad ones.”

“Do it anyway.” The brush in his hand clicks as he sets it down. “You’re in the Shinsengumi, that’s what we do, isn’t it.”

Horikawa presses for a little. “But wouldn’t you regret?”

“There’s always one or two things to regret in life, isn’t there? I can’t please everyone, or make everyone believe in us.” Hijikata rubs the face of his face. “Contrary to popular belief, Kondou-san and I don’t see eye-to-eye on every single matter. We argue plenty, but make up twice as fast. That’s how it is.”

“I see.”

“Did you have a falling out with someone?”

He nods, not trusting his voice.

“Is that why you’re here.”

“That is...a part of it.”

“In that moment you decided, you were sure what you did was right, no?”

He nods again.

“Just remember that moment every time something comes up.” Hijikata turns back to his writing, but doesn’t pick up his brush just yet. “There was a man called Serizawa, that we had to do away with.”

He’s aware; he had been there.

“Not everyone agreed, but here we are. Everyone has regrets”

“How long do you think the Shinsengumi will last?”

“As long as the shogunate gives it a purpose. Or Aizu, depending on how you look at it.”

This is their fate they’re talking about, and Hijikata doesn’t look bothered at all.

Horikawa is beginning to realise where some of his own ways of dealing with hardship come from.

“Hijikata-san, I have one more question.”

“Go ahead.”

“I,” he tries. “No, never mind.”

For all this time here, he hasn’t brought up Kanesan. Izuminokami Kanesada at the far end of the room, silent and watchful. Horikawa shakes himself. “I’ll ask another time.”

“Suit yourself.”

He rises slowly, toes digging against the tatami. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“If there’s tea. Oh, and if you see Kondou-san, tell him I need to see him. He’s been out pretty often.”

Horikawa counts the months, and realises they’re closer than he was aware, to the day Kondou is shot. “I will.”

Everyone has regrets, Hijikata had said.

_I regret myself, but here I am. And now I have to see this through._


	5. SECOND YEAR: fall and winter

> _I’m not sure what else of a reputation I can make for myself. However, the humans and their need to engage and find something to relate to is interesting. There’s always loners, but even they can be coaxed with the right conversation. It’s interesting that swords like me and others have acquired this nature. The Sanjou naturally form a group, and there’s Oda Nobunaga’s swords, also Date Masamune’s swords…and there’s the Shinsengumi._
> 
> _When I see Hijikata-san talking with the men, I end up listening very intently. I hear his laughter and his jokes, the way he gestures, and how, even though he had the ranking of fukuchou, is still approachable. No one forgets who he is, but he can sometimes forget who he is and enjoy himself._
> 
> _I think about Kanesan, who takes his position seriously, but I’ve seen him off-duty. I’ve seen his smile and heard his laughter. Seeing Hijikata-san reminds me of Kanesan, and I miss him._
> 
> _I want to be back. But I don’t think Kanesan would want to see me, and I’m not in a state to be seen._
> 
> _I have to make him proud first, and Hijikata-san proud as well._

**_Keio 2/1867, autumn_ **

Where did dreams come from?  
  
He knows vaguely that there is science, that the human body is not a mystery in 2205. But he doesn’t remember anything about the topic, much less care about that science.  
  
Horikawa wants to know, exactly where, his dreams came from.  
  
_‘Kunihiro.’ Kanesan nudges him in the ribs._  
  
_Two weeks, and he’s already spacing out. ‘Yes?’_  
  
_‘Is something bothering you?’_  
  
_‘No, I was thinking about something.’_  
  
_‘About?’_  
  
_He pauses before answering. ‘Love.’_  
  
_Kanesan coughs. ‘What do you mean?’_  
  
_‘Humans and love.’_  
  
_‘You mean they’re obsessed about it.’_  
  
_‘Maybe, but they’re also motivated by it. Or they have people they care deeply about.’_  
  
_‘What are you getting at, Kunihiro.’_  
  
_Horikawa is still finding the right words and placements to things.  ‘I mean...it affects them a lot, so doesn’t that affect us?’ No one makes a sword carelessly; they always have a purpose, an intention._  
  
_‘Love, affecting us. Heh.’_  
  
_‘Didn’t we have lives because there we were cherished? Not every sword in history is here, after all.’_  
  
_‘It’s not just that. It’s more complicated than that.’_  
  
_‘But Hijikata-san...he loved you.’ Is that all so complicated?_  
  
_‘It’s not just me, it’s also you.’ Kanesan usually looks at him when they talk, but right now, he’s looking somewhere into the distance._  
  
_‘Kanesan, you were made for him.’ He still remembers the day Hijikata commissioned for a Kanesada, as well as the day Izuminokami Kanesada was completed and presented. Even though he had no body that day, there’s a reminiscence of excitement and happiness._  
  
_‘You got to see his end. So even if you weren’t made for him, you were with him.’_  
  
_‘But you love him too, don’t you.’ If they’re going to use a word for what they felt towards their previous master, love made sense._  
  
_‘He was our previous master. But now he isn’t.’_  
  
_‘You still love Hijikata-san, though.’_  
  
_‘Kunihiro.’ Kanesan huffs out his name, his fingers tugging at his hair. ‘We’re swords. We don’t need love.’_  
  
_‘Why not? We’re allowed to enjoy things, aren’t we.’_  
  
_‘Well, yes.’_  
  
_‘Then I think we’re allowed to say things like loving our masters and each other.’_  
  
_‘What do you mean about each other’_  
  
_‘I saw people kissing.’_  
  
_‘That happens sometimes, I guess.’_  
  
_The overly casual tone doesn’t fool him. ‘Kanesan, I think we know what else they could be doing.’_  
  
_‘That kind of activity, you mean.’_  
  
_‘Yes, that kind. Have you?’ He might as well ask everything now._  
  
_‘That’s a personal question.’_  
  
_‘Then you have.’_  
  
_‘Kunihiro! That’s...nevermind. Maybe. Yes. Don’t ask me how many times.’_  
  
_‘Then, does that mean you would kiss me?’_  
  
_‘...’ Kanesan is still not looking at him, but Horikawa can see his ears are pinkish._  
  
_‘...Kanesan?’ Horikawa inches closer._  
  
_‘What kind of question is that?’_  
  
_‘It—’_  
  
_‘Come here.’ Kanesan yanks his arm._  
  
_‘I—oh.’_  
  
_There it is. There’s the kiss. Less than a few seconds, lighter than Kanesan’s hand on his arm, but a kiss nonetheless._  
  
_‘Does that answer your question?’_  
  
_‘It does, yes.’_  
  
_That’s a memory. That’s all it should be. But it continued._  
  
_Kanesan keeps holding his arm, and he’s looking directly at Horikawa now. So direct, that when Horikawa leans in, he can see himself reflected in the depths of Kanesan’s eyes._  
  
_The same shade of blue. The same kind of hair. Kanesan was made to match him, too. Funny how that’s harder to bring than it is saying that Kanesan was made for Hijikata._  
  
_‘Could you kiss me more?’ he hears himself ask._  
  
_‘One isn’t enough?’_  
  
_‘One is never enough.’_  
  
_‘You have a point.’ Kanesan slowly slides his hand down, until he reaches Horikawa’s wrist. ‘Kunihiro...’_  
  
_He waits for Kanesan to continue._  
  
_‘It’s nothing.’_  
  
_Words are not their strong point._  
  
_Or maybe, they’re too afraid to say them at this point._  
  
_Horikawa kisses Kanesan instead, feeling their bangs brush together and the clink of Kanesan’s earrings._  
  
_This is much easier to do, to act than to speak._  
  
Horikawa wakes up at that point, disoriented and the feeling of lips against his. He stares up at the ceiling for a moment, and then rolls violently to one side, covering his face with his hands. It’s not that he’s prudish, but that has yet to happen. Dreams are half-truths, half-desires. Dreams are terrible. He imagines looking at Kanesan, lying on this bed, hair fanned out and clothes loose. He pictures the shade of his lips, the sound of his voice  
  
Thanks, thoughts.  
  
There’s no point in sleeping right now, so he pulls on the Shinsengumi haori over his sleep clothes, and steps out. It’s a little cold to be going barefoot, but the stones against his feet are a good distraction.  
  
One circle around the place, and he ends up at Hijikata’s room. The light is still on, as expected.  
  
He should go.  
  
He taps on the door instead.  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“It’s Horikawa.”  
  
“Oh. Come in.”  
  
There’s a way to slide the doors so that they don’t squeak or catch. But Hijikata’s doors are slightly warped and will always stick; Horikawa has to forcefully tug the last bit so that it shuts.  
  
“Can’t sleep?” Hijikata looks up from his work; his hair is disheveled, strands fallen from his ponytail.  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
“Me neither. There’s been...a lot recently that happened, hasn’t there.”  
  
Ah. He hadn’t really been thinking about it, but there was the Aburanokoji Incident, Toudou Heisuke dying, various political issues, and Kondou Isami being shot. But look at here he was, thinking about kisses and about Kanesan.  
  
He’s selfish.  
  
“There has. I don’t think anyone sleeps well these days.” Horikawa tucks himself into a pile, knees drawn up and everything hidden underneath the haori. “However...I think you stay up too late, Hijikata-san.”  
  
“Mhm.” That’s neither an agreement or disagreement.  
  
“Should I help?”  
  
“If you were me, you could.”  
  
_If only you knew._ Horikawa smiles. “You’d be surprised.”  
  
“Hah. I know sometimes you seem to read my thoughts, and I have no idea how. Are you just insightful?”  
  
“Maybe!”  
  
“Well.” Hijikata gestures to his desk. “If you want to take a look, tell me what you think.”  
  
He shuffles over, and peers at the message.  
  
“They’re making unreasonable demands.”  
  
“They sure are.”  
  
“But the only possibility is to be polite.”  
  
“We really don’t have much of a choice.”  
  
When you deal with authorities, there’s little leeway. They say go up, you go up. They say die, you die.  
  
Horikawa scrawls on another sheet of paper. “Will that do.”  
  
Hijikata studies it. “Yes. It’s close to what I was thinking.”  
  
“I’m glad.” He smiles, unable to help himself.  
  
“Say, Horikawa.”  
  
“Why do you seem so familiar?”  
  
“Hmm, I don’t know. When asked that, how is one supposed to answer?”  
  
“With something deep and insightful, with metaphors to sounds impressive.”  
  
“I couldn’t do that, not with Hijikata-san.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because you would see right through it, wouldn’t you?”  
  
“Maybe. With you, things are different.” Hijikata suddenly stands, stretching his arms over his head. “I need a break.”  
  
“Do you want something to eat?”  
  
“No, it’s fine.”  
  
They push the doors open; a draft blows right in, but it looks as if he doesn’t care. Horikawa, more worried about his health, finds a blanket for him.  
  
“Thanks.” With nothing before him, no orders to give, nothing to answer, Hijikata rests his head in his hand, shoulders slumped. Horikawa sees the circles under his eyes, and worries.  
  
Things will only be harder at this point.  
  
“How are the men?”  
  
“Worried, but I think morale is still holding. They’re all waiting for news on Kondou-san.”  
  
“I would give them more news, but there’s nothing else. He’s slowly healing. Hopefully, he’ll make a full recovery, but I can’t say. Kondou-san himselfhe’s not in a good state, either.”  
  
“He’ll pull out of it.” That’s an empty hope, but Horikawa says it anyway. “He’s Kondou-san.”  
  
“He is.”  
  
“You’re very dependable. I don’t think he’ll worry about the Shinsengumi when he’s not here.”  
  
“Maybe. I’ve always held him up, so that’s not hard.” This is not bragging, this is a fact. “But he’s still commandar.”  
  
_Not for long._ It’s a good thing he doesn’t blurt out his thoughts. He look at Hijikata, as he usually ends up doing when they sit like this.  
  
Kanesan has a slimmer face, with less sharp angles, but his expression is the same as Hijikata’s, when they’re immersed in their thoughts. They’re both loud at times, but deeply thoughtful, caring, though rough and open-handed with their movements.  
  
They’re both beautiful to look at.  
  
“Hijikata-san…”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
He realises he was leaning in too much, and he hastily pulls away. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry to bother you tonight.”  
  
“You’re not making a nuisance of yourself, so why apologise?”  
  
“I’m taking up your time.”  
  
“I’m actually glad you are, because I can get an excuse to look away from that damn message.” Hijikata lifts his hand and places it on Horikawa’s hair, tousling his hair. “You can stay.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
He stays until he falls asleep, and he dreams again.  
  
It’s almost the same as before, but he’s kissing Hijikata instead of Kanesan. They kiss and kiss, and when Horikawa wakes up once more, he’s more restless ever.  
  
What other sword dreams like this? Did Kanesan dream like this?  
  
It doesn’t seem like there will any answers here to this whole mess.

**=**

**Keio 3/1867, winter**  
  
Sakamoto Ryouma is killed, and the Shinsengumi is blamed. They all stagger on, because in history, that’s what they did. What’s another sin, even a false one? Death is their next best friend.  
  
He is exhausted.  
  
Not by history, but by the Revisionist Army. For a week, they’ve been out in full, sometimes twice a day. With the Shinsengumi already lacking people, balancing Shinsengumi duties as well sword duties is taxing. He doesn’t remember the last meal he had that wasn’t an onigiri washed down with tea or water.  
  
Horikawa dispatches them almost mechanically, not even looking at their faces. One enemy after another, one foot in front of the other, one swing after the next...and repeat.  
  
Maybe that’s how he got careless. Lack of sleep makes one do stupid things.  
  
He literally runs into Hijikata, sweat-soaked and sporting injuries. It’s also late at night, past the curfew that no one really follows but they still use as a sense of when a day was over. He’s so tired that at first, he doesn’t even realise Hijikata is upset.  
  
“Where were you?”  
  
“Out.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“The city.”  
  
“Sightseeing?”  
  
“One could say.”  
  
Hijikata tugs at his haori, inspecting the rip. “Did you get robbed?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You got into a fight.”  
  
“I did.” He’s so tired of the questions. Let him go, please.  
  
“With who?”  
  
“No one important.”  
  
“Really.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I’m going to ask one more time. Who were you fighting.”  
  
“It was no one of importance, Hijikata-san.”  
  
“Right.” Hijikata seizes his arm, and drags him.  
  
They’re in Hijikata’s room, where he has been so many times. But he’s never been pulled here, with the door shut fast and Hijikata standing over him.  
  
“You were gone several hours.”  
  
Horikawa doesn’t reply; he knows his silence will be taken as a yes.  
  
“I actually didn’t see much of you this week at all. Care telling me why?” The tatami creaks underneath Hijikata’s feet as he shifts his weight from one foot to another.  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“Were you meeting someone?”  
  
“No. It’s not like that.” He’s not even afraid. He’s just tired. Whatever happens can’t be worse than facing Kanesan, two years ago. “There was something I had to do.”  
  
“You think I don’t know.”  
  
His mind stops. “Know what?”  
  
“That you are good at disappearing at random. Sometimes I’ll ask around, and no one has seen you. Or they thought they saw you. Apparently you like the rooftops.” Hijikata begins pacing, which is not a good sign. “But I’ve noticed it myself. I’ve seen you fight, and you have no trouble with the lot we deal with.”  
  
Horikawa focuses on a pane in the door, seeing there’s no point in answering right now.  
  
“But one day you have a bruise on your face, another day you’re limping. Is there some side job that you? Who are you working for?”  
  
“I can’t answer, Hijikata-san.” He shakes his head.  
  
“Does this have to do with the Shinsengumi.”  
  
“Not exactly.”  
  
“Then what’s the story?”  
  
He sits up as straight as he can, and looks Hijikata in the eye. “I can’t tell you.”  
  
“I _order_ you to tell me.”  
  
“Hijikata-san—”  
  
He’s grabbed by the shoulders and flung against the floor, not hard enough to bruise, but enough that his vision totters. “Answers, Horikawa. Now.”  
  
There’s only a few handful of times that he’s heard Hijikata use that voice. The one that is only slightly above a whisper but cuts like steel through flesh. The one that makes men freeze and want to die in that instant.  
  
There’s more awe than fear swimming through his emotions right now. There’s more respect than terror. This is the man that he basically died with, this is the man that called him his other life, and this is the man that asked for Kanesan to be made.  
  
Horikawa looks up at Hijikata, and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he says softly. “I’m protecting you.”  
  
“You expect me to believe that?”  
  
“You can believe it or not believe it. But that’s why I’m here. I’m protecting you, Hijikata-san.” His throat is suddenly tight. “I have to.”  
  
Hijikata’s face is a jumble of anger and frustration, his fingers crushing the front of Horikawa’s clothes. “Protecting me? From what?”  
  
“I’m not supposed to be here, but I am.”  
  
“What do you”  
  
“I’m not supposed to be existing like this. Hijikata-san isn’t supposed to meet me like this. But you are, because I made that choice. And I have to go through with it.” Strangely enough, he’s smiling. “We’re not supposed to touch, or hear, or even see. I’m not suppose to be here. But I am.” Laughter, scratchy and loud, tears at his throat. “I’m also not supposed to be seen. But I did. Kanesan would be so ashamed.”  
  
“What—what are you even talking about anymore? Who?”  
  
“Someone I used to know. He disagreed with my being here. But I asked him, to join. He was supposed to join with me.” Horikawa sucks in a deep breath, but it still feels as if he’s choking. “He didn’t. I asked him if he were able to strike me down, if he would break me.” The tatami is splintering into his fingers, but he doesn’t care. “He didn’t. He’s too kind.”  
  
Horikawa shuts his eyes. “He wouldn’t do it. Still, if you had to, I know you would, Hijikata-san. Breaking people is a responsibility, and you’ve always carried it, haven’t you.”  
  
“Stop”  
  
“Serizawa-san, Yamanami-san, others...you broke them for the sake of the Shinsengumi. Would you do it now, because I’m belligerent and stubborn? You”  
  
A sharp sting of hot pain against his face jolts him out of his words. “ _Horikawa_.”  
  
It’s ironic that Hijikata slaps him on the same side of his face that Kanesan grazed him. The pain is about the same level, too. He can suddenly breathe again, and feels Hijikata loosening his hold on his kimono.  
  
“I have no idea what you’re saying anymore, but you can stop. It’s fine.”  
  
“Hijikata-san?”  
  
“You’re not lying. Unless I’ve gotten shit at reading people over the years, you believe what you’re saying. So even if it makes no damn sense, I have to accept it, don’t I.”  
  
“Then”  
  
Hijikata exhales loudly, running his hand through his bangs. “Serizawa died because we were ordered. And the others because they broke the rules.” He sits back on his heels, and crosses his arms. “Since you said you’re fighting to protect me, that’s not a personal fight, so that doesn’t count. So, in your words, I won’t break you.”  
  
Horikawa lies there, eyes following Hijikata’s movements. “What if I break myself?”  
  
“You’re doing a good job of that right now, aren’t you.”  
  
He closes his mouth.  
  
“Horikawa, go to sleep. I promise I won’t die in the next eight or so hours.” Gone was that tone of voice, but it’s replaced by one equally low.  
  
“Hijikata-san...” He slowly pulls himself into a sitting position. “Thank you.”  
  
At most, he expected another headpat, another ruffling of his hair.  
  
What he doesn’t expect are fingers brushing his bangs out of his face and a kiss placed to his forehead.  
  
“Someday you’ll tell me the full truth, won’t you?”  
  
The words have dried up inside his mouth.  
  
=


	6. THIRD YEAR: spring and summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ Chapters from this point on are mature ]]

> _ It’s officially war now. There was the battle of Toba-Fushimi, and it went as expected. The Revisionist Army did show up, but I’ve taken care of them easily enough. They try so much damage in this era. Don’t they know that I’m still here? If they really wanted to try harder, they should try to murder me in my sleep. But I’m made for assassin at night. Maybe they respect me? _

> _ That aside, the Shinsengumi is in pieces. There’s not much else to say when you’re reliving and rewatching things that you’ve already gone though. I have to see Hijikata-san’s face when men die or when they leave. I see when he hides his anger and his fear. _

> _ I had to watch when he and Kondou-san said their goodbyes. And I couldn’t do anything. I went to see Kondou, at his death. _

> _ He was so brave. He was smiling until the end. _

> _ And Hijikata? He didn’t even have a chance to react; he was shot so fast and he fell.  _

> _ I’m only changing one thing for Kanesan. I can’t touch Okita Souji’s history, Kondou Isami’s history, or anyone else. I can barely do anything for Hijikata. But that’s how it is. _

> _ It’s unfair, of course. The country derides the shogunate, its supporters, and the Shinsengumi. In the future, people remembered Sakamoto Ryouma. They forgot the Shinsengumi until much later.  _

> _ They forgot the man who was more samurai than they were. They forgot what the Shinsengumi was capable of doing, and how they did things the hard but sincere way. Instead, they were afraid. Miburo—wolves, they called us. _

> _ It’s unfair. _

> _ And all I can do is watch. _

> _ Kanesan, you would, too. You would watch. _

> _ I wish you were watching with me._

**Keio 4/1868, spring**  
  
Gun and swords, both made of metal and wood. Both weapons, both to be used. One was simply more explosive than the other.  
  
They both were meant to kill, regardless.  
  
Horikawa has rinses out the stains in his clothes, and hung them out to dry by the next morning. He rubs the side of his face, catching a glimpse of himself in the water. After two years of seeing himself in traditional clothing, western attire feels so foreign.  
  
He wishes, in that instant, wakizashi didn’t look between human years of sixteen to twenty-five. He wishes he looked more like Kanesan, or was taller. Sure, his stats had superiority in speed and agility, but shooting a gun didn’t really require those. Handling a rifle made his arms ache. He tells himself that it’s a rare chance he gets; Mutsunokami would be jealous.  
  
Thinking about Mutsunokami reminds him that Sakamoto died last winter, and he wonder if it’s terrible that he wanted to see it happen. So many details were known about that night, but it was still a mystery as to who the perpetrators were. Only Mutsunokami knew, and he didn’t share that information with anyone.  
  
It’s like how no one knows who shot Hijikata in the back; Horikawa still has no idea. But he’ll be able to find out this time around, if he plans it right.  
  
By now, it’s an old thought. The plan that he’s gone over in his head more than a thousand times. Hakodate’s every detail, down to the hour, was planned.  
  
“Horikawa.”  
  
He splashes water into his face and turns around. “Yes?”  
  
“Hijikata-san’s looking for you.”  
  
“All right, I’ll go.”  
  
The room Hijikata is using is small and in disrepair. There are no windows, and the lighting is poor. It’s a far cry from Nishi Honganji.  
  
“You called for me?”  
  
“Yes. I need you to carry this. Directions and other details are here.” Hijikata hands him a packet.  
  
Horikawa reads it. “All right. I’ll leave tonight.”  
  
“No, tomorrow.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes, it doesn’t make a different, does it?”  
  
Tomorrow, Kondou-san dies. But that news won’t reach Hijikata for a while. “No, it doesn’t.” He tucks the bundle into his belt.  “Tomorrow morning, then.”  
  
“Mm.” Hijikata bends back over his writing.  
  
“Ah, Hijikata-san.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You cut your hair.” Strange that he didn’t remember the exact day that Hijikata did that.  
  
“I did. It seems better suited to my clothes this way.”  
  
“It does, but...”  
  
“But?”  
  
“It’s a little...rough.” There were quite the long jagged pieces, for one.  
  
“Oh, is that all? I thought you would say I looked awful.”  
  
“No, not at all!” Horikawa gestures. “You look good, but it could use some trimming.”  
  
“Maybe. I didn’t have time.”  
  
“If you want, I could do it.” He leans in.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes, I’m sure. If you let me.”  
  
Hijikata tilts his head, studying Horikawa. “Hm. Fine.”  
  
And that’s he gets to trim Hijikata’s hair, snipping away the uneven parts. It was such fine hair; this is his first time touching it.  
  
It’s like Kanesan’s.  
  
Horikawa forces himself to focus, brushing the strands with his fingers. “I heard that people call you an actor.”  
  
“As if I had the patience to cater to people like that.”  
  
“Maybe in another lifetime?”  
  
“In another lifetime, I’d be peddling medicine until I died. Did you know I used to do that?”  
  
“I heard of it.”  
  
“I would sell medicine and take dojo lessons when I could. So many places kicked me out because I was either too rough, or they didn’t want some fake samurai messing up their students. And it went like that, until I met Kondou-san.”  
  
“At Shieikan, right?”  
  
“Yes. Shieikan.” Hijikata moves, and the sheet wrapped around him rustles. “First Kondou-san, then Souji. He caused me so much trouble, even back then.”  
  
Horikawa carefully trims one of the sides. “And most of the captains were from there, too.”  
  
“They weren’t even fit to be captains back then. We just got drunk a lot of messed around. Now look at us. We’re even retainers, not that titles mean much anymore.”  
  
“Did you think you would get this far?”  
  
“No, I thought people would stop us. They still call us fakes sometimes.”  
  
“They’re were wrong from the start.” Horikawa steps away, inspecting his work. “Done.”  
  
Hijikata runs his fingers through his hair, glancing at the ends. “Did you have practice?”  
  
“I trim my own hair.”  
  
“I have to ask—does this flip naturally?” He flicks that Horikawa’s bangs.  
  
He laughs. “It does. I don’t have much control over that.” You should see Kanesan’s hair, Hijikata-san. “That’s how it’s always been.”  
  
“It suits you.” Hijikata pulls the sheet away from himself, brushing hair out of his clothes. “And thanks.”  
  
“Not at all!” Horikawa gathers the sheet up, and steps away to leave.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Hijikata hasn’t gone back to his wok yet. Rather, he’s looking at Horikawa. “You messed up your vest buttons”  
  
“Oh—” This has happened before; Horikawa looks down at himself, and sure enough, he’s missed the very top button and so all the other ones were wrong.  
  
“Come here.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“You cut my hair. Call it returning the favour.” Hijikata starts on the buttons. “It took me a few days to get the hang of them.”  
  
“They’re not as easy as traditional clothing, are they.” Horikawa tries to not move, his breaths shallow. “And there’s a lot of them.”  
  
The vest is opened, and Hijikata starts lining it up from the button. Horikawa sees the top of his head, feels the brush of fingers against him…  
  
He pulls away.  
  
“I’m not done.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Then what’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing’s wrong.”  
  
“No, you’re using that smile.” Hijikata removes his hands, standing back up. “That’s the one you use when you’re hiding something.”  
  
“If I have something to hide right now, it’s my own problem.”  
  
“A problem?”  
  
“I…” Horikawa presses his knuckles over his chest, digging against his sternum. “It’s silly.”  
  
“I’m not laughing right now, am I?”  
  
“No…”  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
_I don’t know how._ Horikawa gazes up at Hijikata. _I don’t think it’s allowed._  
  
“Horikawa?”  
  
_But I have to try._ If there was one thing that Shinsengumi has taught him, it’s to take chances. So he stands up on his toes, because while Hijikata is not as tall as Kanesan, he’s still taller.  
  
It’s odd to do something you’ve only dreamed about. He kisses Hijikata with all of his emotions, because desire is like opening a floodgate; once it’s out, it doesn’t know how to stop.  
  
Hijikata is first to break off the kiss; Horikawa dares to look at his face.  
  
It’s unclear what he sees.  
  
“Hijikata-san, I…” his voice trails off.  
  
Silence.  
  
“I’ll go, then.” Before any more emotions can overtake him.  
  
Hijikata catches his hand. “Was that your first kiss?”  
  
“No.” Just the second one.  
  
“It felt like a first.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean that your first one obviously wasn’t that great.”  
  
He’s about to protest; there’s nothing wrong with how Kanesan kisses! But Hijikata interrupts him by slipping his fingers underneath his chin, tilting it to one side.  
  
“It should be more like this.”  
  
Smooth.  
  
Hot.  
  
Steady.  
  
Those words both perfectly and imperfectly describes the moment. Horikawa’s eyes are wide, his heartrate accelerating. So it wasn’t just a brush of lips and applying pressure. There’s the hand still against his chin, and the other hand that slides down his back in an agonisingly slow way. There’s the way their bodies shift, until there’s no space between them and he’s pressed up against Hijikata. There’s the way he sees sparks in his vision and he forgets how to breath, and there’s a sensation of tongue against his that he tries to follow but slips up.  
  
He doesn’t know how he’s standing when Hijikata pulls back. His face is hot, but so is his neck.  
  
A fact that people sometimes overlook: there was a time, in Hijikata’s life, where he chased after many. There were reasons people got away with calling him an actor, or how the Shinsengumi had appeal. Even if his hair is shorter, his face more tired, he is handsome to look at, and some things—like sex—you might partake less of, but you didn’t forget how it worked.  
  
“Was that good?”  
  
He nods. _Pull it together, Horikawa. Don’t act love-struck._  
  
“That’s your third kiss.”  
  
“Fourth, actually.”  
  
“Still not a lot.” Hijikata’s hands are still on him, but he’s beginning to look as if he’s thinking about this more thoroughly. “Horikawa…”  
  
“I—” Again, the words fail him. “I’d like more. If that’s all right.”  
  
“Do you know what you’re asking for?”  
  
“I know what I want.” Swords are an innuendo, for goodness’ sake. “I’m aware.” He reaches for the top button of his shirt.  
  
Hijikata stops him. “Not yet.”  
  
Before Horikawa can ask why, Hijikata is kissing him again. And again. He can’t count them anymore, because what use is there in measuring the tide? Horikawa lets it drag him down, deeper. He attempts to document this in his mind, to remember all of it.  
  
But there’s no point to thinking, is there? Not when his senses are all engaged, and Hijikata knows exactly where his hands should go. They inch underneath his shirt, untucking it, slowly edging up and tracing against his ribs.  
  
Horikawa gulps for air, and clutches at Hijikata’s hands.  
  
“Should I stop?”  
  
“No.” He undoes the buttons now, slowly. Come to think of it, Hijikata has seen him naked before, in his blade form. Swords on display had no tsuka, no tsuba, no habaki, no saya. All of those things can be replaced, and even details on sword can be changed, but a blade is a blade. Just like a human body; alter it as you will, but it remains a human.  
  
Still, is sex supposed to be this rousing? They’ve barely gotten started, they’re still dressed (mostly), they’re still standing, but he’s already winded.  
  
Hijikata lightly taps his cheek. “Your face is red.”  
  
“I’m—it’s—” he tries, and shrugs. His shirt falls off one shoulder, and he doesn’t bother to catch it. “I can’t help it.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Hijikata tugs at the other side, dragging it downwards. Even the rustling of fabric sends tingles through his skin. “That happens.”  
  
“Yes, it is, isn’t it,” he tries himself faintly say, and it continues  
  
Sex in his mind has always been made up of sounds and movement. But he’s never known how warm another body next to his could be, warmer than if they were clothed. He doesn’t realise how many nerves have been coaxed to respond, or how a tongue was better than fingers, almost. Neither did he realise how kisses on his back were something he really liked.  
  
There’s actually a lot he’d comment on, but one thing he’s remembered someone saying, too much talk sort of ruins the mood. He can’t help commenting just a little, though.  
  
“You look better in person than in my mind.” In his memories, he means.  
  
“So I exceeded your expectations?”  
  
“Yes.” He nods, even though the movement looks stupid when he’s lying on his back. “I always knew, but this—” Spreading the palm of his hand slowly across Hijikata’s chest, he feels the pulse there. “I like this.”  
  
“You sometimes talk too much.”  
  
“I know…”  
  
“But I know you listen plenty.” Hijikata takes his hand, guiding it downwards. “So do that instead.”  
  
“Is that an order, Hijikata-san?”  
  
“I can make it an order.”  
  
His laughter comes out funny. “I’ll will. I’ll listen.”  
  
Is he listening to himself, or Hijikata? Neither of them are all that loud, but hearing himself moan is new, while Hijikata, hand still on his, grasps their cocks together. He feels himself spasm, his muscles unaccustomed; Hijikata remains steady.  
  
“It gets easier the more you do it.” The words are whispered against his ear; he shivers.  
  
“I—thought as much.” His lips feel heavy and sluggish, but the rest of his body is active. His free hand clutches to his side; he’s afraid of ruining the tatami. “But I don’t think I’ll last.”  
  
“You’re not supposed to.”  
  
“But you—”  
  
“Don’t worry about me, Horikawa.”  
  
_Horikawa_. What if he asks Hijikata to call him Kunihiro?  
  
But that’s crossing a certain line, isn’t it?  
  
His hand fumbles in his movements, and Hijikata loosens his grasp.  
  
“You’re going to cut yourself like that.”  
  
“Then?”  
  
Hijikata gestures to his shoulders. “I’ve been through worse.”  
  
It seems wrong, for a sword to hurt their master. But he puts his hands there, nonetheless.  
  
The strokes of Hijikata’s hand are far more coordinated than his, there’s a method there, to keep him teetering at the edge. The feeling builds, only to be drawn back when he thinks he’ll end, and he doesn’t know how long it is before he’s gasping and digging his fingernails against skin.  
  
He thought his first time would be with Kanesan, actually.  
  
He shuts his eyes.  
  
“Hey. Horikawa. Don’t close them.”  
  
“But…” He doesn’t know how to explain.  
  
Hijikata presses down on him, hips tilting in a perfect motion, while Horikawa tries to keep his legs still even as he’s pushing back.  
  
“Who…who am I supposed to look at?”  
  
“I’m right here, Horikawa.”  
  
_Don’t think about Kanesan right now, don’t—_  
  
And he shatters there. It starts low and travels upward, sparks in his vision that seem to make it into his throat; he shakes as he draws his arms around Hijikata’s neck, trying to breathe at some semblance of a pace and failing.  
  
He tastes blood; he’s bitten his lip in an effort to avoid shouting out names.  
  
Hijikata’s weight leaves him, and he grabs him before he even thinks.  
  
“You’re here,” he says, heartrate finally slowly, the sweat cooling against his forehead.  
  
“So are you.”  
  
_It’s Hijikata._  
  
He thinks about crying; he nearly does, but he won’t.  
  
He’ll cry when Hijikata has fallen.  
  
But, just to be fair, he lies awake at night, nestled against Hijikata and feeling him inhale and exhale.  
  
He has no idea what Kanesan will think about this, or how he would even talk about it.  
  
Does it matter? Kanesan’s not the one here. Hijikata Toshizou is, and Horikawa crosses his legs and curls more tightly to the body curled around his.  
  
This is where he belongs right now.

**=**

  
**Keio 4/1868, summer**  
  
They continue.  
  
There’s actually no official agreement; Horikawa shows up and stays some nights. Sometimes they talk. Other times they do sleep together. There’s no actual schedule, since they’ve begun to move constantly around.  
  
The night Hijikata finally found out Kondou had been executed, Horikawa had stayed, his head pressed to Hijikata’s back the whole night. Grief makes anyone small, even great men like Hijikata.  
  
But it will pass. It has to, because there’s still more before it’s all over.  
  
They move on, without slowing their steps.  
  
Not even the death of Okita Souji can stop them.  
  
Hijikata had withdrawn immediately after the message, saying nothing and disappearing. Horikawa knows the story of it all—the wasting away, the cat, and the attempt to kill it. Okita died doing what he always did. Impulsive, bright-eyed, with a flair for killing—those are traits mirrored on to his swords.  
  
So many other metaphors for death.  
  
Hijikata sought him out was a week after Okita’s death. The room of the inn is hardly suited for this kind of activity, with thin walls and old tatami, and the summer heat makes the room feel suffocating. but they make due.  
  
He’s quiet good at being silent, muffling it all in the crook of his arm, or against Hijikata’s shoulder. They do it standing up—that is, Hijikata is the one standing. Horikawa is lifted off the ground, squirming against the wall and against Hijikata. He’s mentioned Hijikata’s foot still healing, but this comment is ignored.  
  
At one point, he has his hands clasped against Hijikata’s neck, and catches his gaze just as he comes, sweat dripping into his eyes.  
  
It’s vulnerability, right there. Parted lips, drawn eyebrows, but the effort of keeping silent doesn’t dampen his expression. It lasts only a second or two, before Hijikata slumps into Horikawa, sliding the both of them down.  
  
His stomach muscles are sore from tensing and keeping himself upright, but he still takes the time to tuck Hijikata’s hair out of his face, and untangle the back.  
  
“You always do that.” Hijikata watches him with half-lidded eyes.  
  
“It’s become a habit,” he answers, blowing his own hair away from his nose. “I like your hair.”  
  
“If you grew yours out, it would be nice, I’m sure.”  
  
“I don’t want to, because it would remind me of someone.”  
   
“Is it the same someone you mention every so often?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Must be a good someone.”  
  
“He is. He’s…many things.” Horikawa leans against Hijikata and looks at his toes when he stretches his feet out. “But there was too many things I didn’t say to him.”  
  
“What makes you think you won’t have the chance?”  
  
“It really all depends on what the future will be.” If Kanesan even wants to see him.  
  
Hijikata hums. “A long time ago, you said you were protecting me. That’s why you joined the Shinsengumi, yes?”  
  
“It still is. You’re the one I have to protect.”  
  
“But what about him.”  
  
“I protect him. Or at least I tried.” Their first mission together had been terrible, and the second one…led to this. “He doesn’t depend on me yet.”  
  
“Well, he should. As much as I depend on you.”  
  
He flushes. “I don’t do that much.”  
  
“There you go, being too modest again.” Hijikata’s arm circles his waist. “If you had joined earlier, I think the guys would’ve really taken to you, too. I would’ve made you captain, if you were older back then.”  
  
“Hijikata-san thinks that highly of me?”  
  
“Actions speak louder than words. You impressed everyone your first day.”  
  
If he had been human, would he still have the same impression? Could he still be a part of the Shinsengumi, and would he still feel this loyal? At the end of the day, he’s still a man-made thing, for humans to use and to be obliged to them. There is only so much free will that they have. He’s just lucky that his master hadn’t been the type to treat him as a trophy or pass him off to others. He had been an extension.  
  
At he looks at Hijikata, he wonders how much of his feelings are because he is Hijikata’s sword. Where is the line between compulsion and loyalty?  
  
“He let me go. He let me come here.” Horikawa lets the words fall out. “He didn’t have to, he could’ve struck me down, but he didn’t.”  
  
“Doesn’t that mean he believes in you?”  
  
Horikawa stares at Hijikata. “Believe?”  
  
“Believing in someone and agreeing with someone are two different things. That’s how I’ve always seen it.” Hijikata taps Horikawa’s forehead gently. “If you see him again, just speak honestly like you’re on borrowed time.”  
  
“Is that…is that what you wished you said…”  
  
“To Kondou-san? And Souji? And everyone else who left? Yes.” A short laughter that sounded more like a cough escapes. “Oni-fukuchou—Demon Commander, they called me. I had to become someone else to get things moving. But look at me now. I don’t think I’ve changed. I think…if we had the time, I’d rather be this most of the time.”  
  
“The soft side of you that composes haiku, even now.”  
  
Hijikata pushes him off-balance. “Very funny, Horikawa.”  
  
He pulls Hijikata’s coat off the floor and over himself. “The sides of you—you really don’t let people see.”  
  
“I don’t. Somehow, I let you.”  
  
“Because I’ve always known.”  
  
“Hm. You do seem to know me.” Hijikata absently tugs at the coat. “You’ve always seemed vaguely familiar.”  
  
Horikawa only smiles. “I’ve been told.”  
  
_If only you knew._  



	7. THIRD YEAR: fall and winter

 

 

 

> _What was Kanesan thinking when he gave me these earrings?_
> 
> _Maybe a better question would be why does he have earrings. That’s a question no one can answer._
> 
> _But he gave them to me, as a reassurance I guess. I had to stop wearing them to not draw attention. But I’ve put them back on, because no one cares anymore. I just tell people they’re a good luck charm._
> 
> _And in a way, they are._
> 
> _I’ve always carried them on me. They have never left me. They’re the first gift that Kanesan gave to me. But I didn’t have anything to give. And right now, the only thing I can give him is a chance to be with Hijikata-san a while longer. But I don’t know if he’ll accept it._
> 
> _It’s fine if he doesn’t._
> 
> _I have to see this through because Hijikata-san wasn’t a coward, and neither am I._
> 
> _This is my choice. I’m not betraying history. Hijikata Toshizou will still die on that battlefield. I’ll make sure of it._
> 
> _I just want Kanesan to not have regrets. He doesn’t need to feel the way I do._
> 
> _This is for him. But, it’s also for me._

  


**Keio 4/1868, autumn**  
  
With Saitou Hajime’s departure, the last of the captains were gone. Not that they weren’t Shinsengumi, but loyalty pulls people in different directions. Saitou is committed to Aizu, and Hijikata goes to Sendai.  
  
‘Horikawa.’  
  
‘Yes?’  
  
‘Since you’re still here, and Tetsunosuke is still young…I’m making you my assistant…why are you laughing. Why is that order funny.’  
  
‘It’s nothing, Hijikata-san. I’m honoured.’  
  
Irony sure has a way of hitting him in the face. His lot in life is to be an assistant. He had already in assisting so much, so it’s more of an acknowledgement than formality.  
  
Nonetheless, he cherishes the title, the way Kanesan gave him his earrings.  
  
Hijikata notices them instantly, of course. “Those are new,” he comments when they’re on their way out that morning to a meeting.  
  
“I’ve always had them, actually.”  
  
“Let me see.”  
  
He takes them off and places them in Hijikata’s hand, where they look small and barely glow. Hijikata rolls them in his fingers, holding them up.  
  
“Red earrings. Hm.”  
  
“Red is a good colour.”  
  
“You’re right.” And red is the perfect colour of many things.  
  
Hijikata hands the earrings back. “It somehow…feels nostalgic. Seeing red on you. But not too much red.”  
  
Kanesan is the one with all the red. Horikawa laughs. “I think blue suits me better, with accents of red.”  
  
“You showed up in blue, if you remember.”  
  
He does. He had bought it in a rush, pointing at the first cheap outfit. It made his eyes even bluer, and, with the Shinsengumi haori, he stuck out. “Would it have made a different impression if I showed up in all red?”  
  
“I would be picking a fight with you if you did.”  
  
Now that would’ve been interesting. Aside from that first day, he hasn’t really done huge things in the Shinsengumi, lest it alters history too much.  
  
“How much did it hurt?”  
  
“The piercing? I don’t remember.”  
  
“Not much, then. Or you just have a high tolerance for pain.”  
  
“I think I do.” Sword abilities and all. But he also has yet to be severely damaged. There’s scars underneath his clothes, and some healing injuries, but nothing life-threatening. “I’ve never tested it.”  
  
Hijikata looks as if he’d say more, but they’re interrupted by a messenger redirecting them from their original destination.  
  
Evening finds them together again; Horikawa on his knees, and Hijikata standing over him.  
  
It’s a good view, both ways. Hijikata gets to tangle his hands in Horikawa’s hair as he watches, while Horikawa can peer upwards and catch every muffled gasp and sigh.  
  
“You’re…too good at this.”  
  
Horikawa hums in the back of his throat, tongue dipping to the underside of Hijikata’s cock and swirling. He knows.  
  
“This isn’t what I meant by assistant, by the way.”  
  
He nearly laughs, but runs the risk of choking, so instead, he grazes with his teeth. It works, because Hijikata bucks against him once, twice, and then stiffens his back as he leans against the wall, sated.  
  
Horikawa rubs his mouth with the back of his hand and stands. Hijikata kisses him; it’s honestly a peculiar taste like this, but not an overall bad one. No complaints from him, especially not when Hijikata slips his hand down to finish him the quickest way, with a few firm strokes that make his knees shake.  
  
Hijikata actually looks a little regretful. “Sorry for rushing. ” The pile of papers on his desk says it all, of course.  
  
He shakes his head. “It’s all right. As long as I’m of help in any way.” He gets a light smack on his backside for that.  
  
“Are you saying you want to be motivation?”  
  
“I could…that depends on what kind you want.”  
  
Amusement flickers through Hijikata’s eyes. “I could think of a lot.”  
  
And that’s how Horikawa lying across the table, sans clothing from waist down. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s not the tallest wakizashi out there, since he fits quite comfortable. There’s hardly any room for writing, but Hijikata doesn’t seem to care, if the fingers trailing against his thigh are any indication.  
  
“Hijikata-san, have you ever thought about what you’d do after the fighting?” It seemed like the time to finally ask. “If they don’t execute us, I mean.”  
  
“After?” Hijikata dabs his brush in his ink. “That’s a long time off.”  
  
Not as far as you think it is. “But what if.”  
  
“I’ve thought about it.”  
  
Horikawa waits.  
  
“I don’t think I’m the kind to settle down after. I’d be restless.” Hijikata leans his chin on his arm. “Even if they recognised me as some veteran, I wouldn’t care. The Shinsengumi and Kondou-san matter more.”  
  
No wonder Kanesan never talks about his time in Tama, in that small museum. No wonder he’s so happy to serve aruji, to fight and be active.  
  
“That’s depressing, sorry.”  
  
“No, it was insightful.” And as he thought.  
  
There’s no point in saving Hijikata Toshizou. He was meant to live and die as a warrior.  
  
Horikawa slowly rolls over, his shirt not hiding much underneath it. “Hijikata-san is person who lives in the present, not in the past or the future, isn’t he?”  
  
“Hm.” Hijikata rests his fingers against Horikawa’s hip. “What about you?”  
  
“I’m not sure, myself. But I think I need to talk to him, before I can decide anything.”  
  
“Him again, huh.”  
  
“I didn’t like the way we parted.”  
  
“Just charm him the way you did me. Speaking of me, isn’t it bad taste to talk about someone else when you’re lounging like that in front of me?”  
  
“I don’t know, doesn’t it say something about my charm?”  
  
“You have too much of it.” Hijikata takes his brush and draws an x-shape on Horikawa’s thigh.  
  
“Ah—”  
  
“Don’t move.”  
  
The brush tickles. Horikawa grips his leg to keep it still, his eyes following the movement. Hijikata has a lovely hand, the calligraphy trailing elegantly.  
  
“Is that a haiku?”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
He could always read it, but he’s content to watch. Tomorrow, they’ll have to return to duties. Maybe even tonight, they’ll have to move again.  
  
For now, he’ll let Hijikata write on him, all of him, if he wants.

=

**Keio 4/1868, winter**

Hakodate is as bitterly cold as his memory tell him, gusty even away from the shores. Snow is heavy and dreary, and he only sees the sun occasionally. His time is almost up; a few more battles before spring, and then…the end. By now, Horikawa carries two of himself—his current sword form and his past, as well as Kanesan. Hijikata has countless meetings and discussions, and so Horikawa is at his side. It's a pain to put on his swords constantly, hence the carrying.

Carrying himself is a bit odd. He concentrates, to see if he has an echo of a memory, or if maybe colours will suddenly be more vivid. None of that happens, of course. His past self and Kanesan are silent.

As they should be.

He now finds it hard to sleep at night unless he's holding Kanesan, or when he's with Hijikata. Something about his body is a clock, too, keeping track. He obeys it. Why would he defy it? This is more time with the two people that he most cares about.

He begins to drop hints about Kanesan.

' _You've had your sword a long time, haven't you.'_

' _Not all that long. It's almost a pity it can't see more fighting.' Hijikata rests his hand on the guard, thumb tracing the markings on it. 'It's served me well.'_

' _It's long for an uchigatana, isn't it.' Sorry, Kanesan. He's not insulting you, he promises._

_Hijikata laughs. 'No one really uses tachi these days, so I just asked them to make it longer.'_

' _Then I guess you'll want it to be buried with you.'_

' _Buried with me? Now that's a waste, isn't it.'_

' _I suppose. But if not that, what will you do?'_

' _Send it back to my hometown.'_

_Horikawa chooses his words carefully. 'Send it back?'_

' _It can be a keepsake, if I'm leaving any legacy behind.'_

' _I suppose…'_

' _You don't agree?'_

' _Well…let's pretend this sword a soul.'_

' _I'm not quite following you, but sure.'_

' _If it has a soul, it was born the instant you requested it. And it's lived its whole life so far with you. All this time.' Horikawa slips his hands behind his back, to hide his nerves. 'Hijikata-san, don't you think….it would be devastated if you sent it away?'_

_Hijikata looks at him. '….so you're saying you want me to keep this sword at my side until the end.'_

' _Isn't that better?'_

' _That runs the risk of it being lost. I paid good money for it. I think it's better if it goes to Tama.'_

_Horikawa lets out his breath. He'll go to Tetsunosuke next, for persuasion. 'And…your other sword?'_

' _I can't leave myself completely defenceless, can I?' Hijikata runs his hand through his hair. "And that one has been with me even longer….the beginning, through Ikedaya, through other incidents…it's saved me multiple times. I would send both back, but I do need it."_

_There's a lump in his throat that he struggles to swallow. 'I'm sure it's proud to say, because you're its master.'_

' _If my swords did have souls ,then I hope so.'_

Charm, arguments, persuasion—it all falls short of the mark. Horikawa bring it up as much as he can without rousing suspicion. He wonders, if as a last resort, he should reveal himself.

Yet that's not the first thing in his mind.

It's _Hijikata_.

Once he leaves, that's it. Even if he were to return to this era, Hijikata wouldn't remember him. This is a single moment in time that cannot repeated.

Their breaks and chances to rest are few and far, but they make do.

"Hijikata-san, you need to be more careful." Horikawa is sewing a tear on the side of Hijikata's shirt. It's been washed and doesn't smell like guns or blood, at least. "You've torn this in the same place so many times, it's going to fall apart."

"That's funny you say that, when you fell and nearly got trampled by a horse." Hijikata is wrapping bandages around his ankle. "You're lucky only people stepped on you."

"It'll heal itself. But your shirt won't."

"I can buy a damn shirt. I can't replace you." A jab into his uninjured side makes him shy away. "And last week, you got bashed in the head."

"Head wounds bleed a lot?"

"That's not the point, Horikawa. Give me your arm."

"I'm mending—"

"Arm first."

He holds it out, barely glancing down at the large bruises. His ribs hurt more; he's aware of them every time he takes a breath.

"Done."

"Hijikata-san, I'll be fine." He pulls his arm out of those hands, and goes back to his task. "I always am."

"Are you?"

No. But Horikawa smiles anyway. "It's what it is."

"I like that I can count on you. But I don't want to count on me being the last person to die." Hijikata's laughter is sharp. "You should look out for yourself."

 _Assistants look out for the captains, the leaders. That's what I'm most used to._ He pulls his leg up to look at the bandage.

"Really. I mean it." Hijikata prods his shoulder.

"All right," is Horikawa answers. He moves to sit behind Hijikata now. "I'll try."

Placing his hands in Hijikata's shoulders, he squeezes with his fingers, circling his thumbs. There's always so much tension there; it's practically visible in how rigid Hijikata sits or stands.

A sigh runs through the frame in front of him. "This is too much indulgence."

"It's not. It's…relaxing?"

"That's indulgence in times like these." Hijikata leans forward slightly. "But if it's you…"

"Me?"

"You've been here three years. Shame you didn't join earlier, but better then rather than now. We're not fighting for hope or glory. It's just survival at this point."

Horikawa presses lower, against the dips in the back created by the shoulder blades. "That's more reason to enjoy what you can before it's gone."

"You sound like you know the outcome."

"Maybe I do."

"Hm. Explain."

"Maybe I came from the future, and I know everything that happens, which is why I'm protecting you. Maybe it's stupid to protect someone who is destined to die on a battlefield. Maybe I just had a foolish dream I'm trying to live, so I made this choice." These are reckless words. He doesn't care. "Maybe I want to indulge a person that I love and love to serve."

Silence. Horikawa doesn't falter in his motions, his eyes fixed intently on some area in Hijikata's back.

"Interesting theory."

"Isn't it? I thought of it myself."

"Horikawa—"

"I can't explain anymore, but in a few months, I'll be gone. No one will remember me, but they'll remember you. History will remember all of you." Memorials, here and there. The grave in the front yard of a community building at Hakodate, the museum in Hino. Plaques in Kyoto. The written accounts and fictional retellings. "Not that people in the future really understand you. Only a few are allowed that."

"Horikawa." Hands pull at his, stopping him. "Stop." Hijikata has him in his arms now

He swallows several times against the lump in his throat, inhaling the best he can. He's gone all this time without crying, he can hold it in a little longer until it's all over.

This is something Kanesan won't ever experience. This is just something between him and Hijikata, shared and cherished. Maybe he loves Hijikata more than he realises.

"I think, you already know...that I'm different from other people, Hijikata-san."

"Only somewhat. You always felt like you belonged. Familiar, even. There's only a handful of people I let my guard down around to actually understand me."

_There's a reason for that. But I can't tell you. Not directly._

"I want to stay." _A part of me does. A part of me died with you. The other part of me is right here._ "But I can't."

"I know. I can't give you what you need."

Hearing that said out loud is worse than saying it to himself in the depths of his mind.

Hijikata's voice has dipped until it's only slightly above a whisper. "You're looking for someone who isn't here. No, I don't doubt that you care deeply about me." Something catches in his breath. "The way you look at me—you know me too well. But you're also trying to understand yourself, and there's something that I can't give you."

His stupid, stupid feelings, all twisted together and convoluted. Kanesan, Hijikata. It's like two sides of the same coin sometimes.

"A long time ago, you said something about your eyes. About how that was the way you were made. You were made to live on and survive."

"I didn't ask for it." Neither did Kanesan. He didn't ask to be alone. They didn't ask to have bodies and thoughts, or hearts given to them. "I didn't choose to be chosen for that."

"That's just life. That's how it is for the Shinsengumi." Fingers stroke his hair, more gently than they've ever gripped his hilt and wielded him in battle.

It's unfair, because even after these three years, it's shown him just that. When he sees Kanesan again, he already knows what Kanesan will choose.

And it will be history. It will the history where Hijikata does alone, and Kanesan is gone. The Shinsengumi was never made to last forever.

All this time, it's just been a extended goodbye that he's always known but didn't want to acknowledge.

Maybe it's time he accepted it. "Hijikata-san."

"Yes?"

"I'm going to be selfish for the new hour or so. Is that all right?"

"Selfish? I thought you'd never ask."

Better that he's selfish than grieving. There's plenty of time in 2205 for that. Not in this year. Horikawa is already in Hijikata's lap, so he twists until he straddles him, fingers making quick work of the buttons and zippers.

"What do you want, Horikawa?" Hijikata asks him, eyes on his every moment.

"You." _I've always belonged to you, after all._

He knows some swords have more loyalty to their aruji, the saniwa that brought them forth. Understandably so, when their first masters discarded them or treated them as mere tools for power. Others served because that's their definition of loyalty. Or, they believed it was right. Himself? He doesn't actually know what he'll be saying after this. History isn't clearly defined thread, it's more of a weavework with patterns. The Revisionist Army alters colours, and they amend it. Would anyone really care, if one strand is changed?

It's not as if it'll affect him. He's going to be tossed away in the end. It's never been about that.

This is why he can only be selfish right now.

He kisses with regret, until the regrets are gone from his mind. Until his lips hurt and Hijikata's fingers leave marks on his arms. He feels like he's on fire, with his nerves all raw and torn open.

_More, please._

They have instances when it's gentle, when it's slow. Other times they talk in between thrusts and sometimes they're laughing too hard to properly finish. Still other times, they tear each other up and forget to breathe and there's cuts and bites.

Tonight, Hijikata takes him from behind, holding him up and bracing the both of them. The ground rises up against his chest and he pants, toes pressed and squished.

"Is it too fast?"

"No...no, it's fine," he says, arching his neck. It feel cathartic, this pace. "Keep going."

Sweat slides down his spine, and he feels the slow lick of a tongue wiping it away, causing shivers through his body.

"You could ask for more."

"More?"

"You did say...you were going to be selfish." Puffs of air are hot against his neck. "Tell me directly what you want."

"Everything—ah—that you can give me." A particularly hard thrust leaves him weak-kneed.

"Why?"

"Because that's the way it should be."

"No, what do _you_ want." A hand circles around his base, cutting him off from the edge.

His voice rises, nearly squeaking. " _You_."

"Me, and?" One finger trails alongside his cock, tugging at the skin

"I want you...to make me remember this." Another shudder. "I don't want to forget. You're capable of hurting me, but I know you won't. You could do anything to me. But I trust you."

Hijikata, somehow, can maneuver them on their sides. He cups Horikawa's face in his hand, his eyes intense. "You won't forget this. You said you were mine, so...you're mine, right here and now."

Horikawa licks his lips, and nods.

They end it like this, with alternated slow and sharp thrusts, messy open-mouthed kisses in-between. There's sweat running into his eyes (it is definitely _not_ tears) and he's sore, but feeling Hijikata against him, pressing into him and sending him into bliss is always as good as the first time they did it.

He's so stupid; they still had some months, but he's wrecking himself like this already. Look at him, face buried in Hijikata's shoulder and gripping his shoulder so tightly like a lifeline.

"Are you proud of me?" he hears himself ask. "Did I protect you, Hijikata-san?"

"Of course I am." Hijikata pulls him closer, hands tangling in his hair. "You always did."

Horikawa believes it.

Whether Kanesan can say the same thing about him is another matter, but in this moment, it's just Hijikata Toshizou and Horikawa Kunihiro, and it's enough.

 


	8. EPILOGUE

**EPILOGUE**

**2205**  
  
Home. A strange feeling. The surroundings are familiar and yet it feels too new. There’s so many swords, so many buildings, so much conversation.  
  
Horikawa ends up wandering away, into the fields. He can think like this.  
  
Three years away and now he’s except to go back to this live of chores and missions. He has to make sure history is the same, and cut vegetables in the kitchen. He’s back to his modern-clothes, flashier than anything he’s worn in the Shinsengumi.  
  
This is supposed to be home, but it’s not.  
  
“Hey. Kunihiro.”  
  
He doesn’t jump. “Kanesan?”  
  
Kanesan sits next to him on the ground. “I was looking for you.”  
  
“I should’ve said something, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Well, I found you, so that’s that.”  
  
“You did.”  
  
“You skipped lunch, didn’t you.”  
  
“I didn’t really feel like eating today.” No, his stomach is all twisted up. He has his arms tightly folded to his chest and his legs drawn up against them.  
  
“Skipping meals is bad, so here—” Kanesan hands him an onigiri. “Eat it.”  
  
“I don't—”  
  
“Eat it, Kunihiro.”  
  
It’s that same tone of voice. Wordlessly Horikawa takes a bite.  And another bite. It feels like hours, but he finishes it.  
  
“Better.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
They sit in silence; Horikawa watches a dragonfly chasing another, their colours flashing in the sunlight. Everyone else here knows their places and don’t seem to have the trouble he does. Then again, when was the last time a sword stayed out for three years? Newbie out, old-timer in.  
  
“I don’t know how to say this,” Kanesan blurts out. “But did you miss us?”  
  
Horikawa blinks. “I definitely did. I missed you.” _Every day, Kanesan._  
  
“Did you think it would work?”  
  
“I had to try.” Not for naught, he had increased his strength and fighting capabilities. “It was for you, Kanesan.”  
  
“Kunihiro…I didn’t ask for it.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You did things the hard way.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Three years, on your own.”  
  
“Hijikata-san—”  
  
“He wasn’t there when you fought the enemy. That was all you.” And without warning, Kanesan pushes Horikawa’s sleeve up. “I knew it.”  
  
Scars are crisscrossed and splotched on his skin; he hasn’t gone for repairs yet, because they’ve been overfilled, and he’s not actively injured. “It’s nothing.”  
  
“Really? Even that really long one I see?”  
  
Horikawa tries to pull his arm away. “They’re healed. I’m fine.”  
  
“Are you?”  
  
“Yes.” Look, he’s smiling!  
  
Kanesan finally lets go of his arm.  “What are you not showing me, Kunihiro.”  
  
He looks straight ahead, at grove of trees.  
  
“Kunihiro…I’m not upset about this whole thing anymore.” Kanesan sighs a little. “What happened, happened. You’re back here now, and I hope you don’t have to leave to do something like this again. It was only an hour or two for me maybe, but it was the longest two hours, not knowing what to do. And then aruji bought us to Hakodate, to find you. I was afraid you’d be dead or worse.”  
  
“You mean made more of a mess than it already was?”  
  
“Not like that. Kunihiro—look. I was worried. About you.” The words have a punch to them because Kanesan is rushing them, faster than his running pace. “Three years is a long time alone.”  
  
Horikawa tucks his arms more tightly against his chest. “It was.”  
  
“Are you mad I didn’t go with you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Are you mad that—”  
  
“I’m not angry, Kanesan. I’m…” What is he? “I’m sad.”  
  
You can’t just close a door on a three years of an experience.  
  
It hurts.  
  
“I knew it was coming. I knew what it would be like. But I cried, anyway.” Horikawa draws a shaky breath. “I know he dies. But did it have to be that way. He didn’t deserve that.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“He went out knowing he’d die.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“It wasn’t even about him, it was about the last stand of the Shinsengumi. It was for his men. It was—” The words trip over each other. “It was horrible.”  
  
A desperate ache sits in his chest. He thumps his fist against it. “And we had to see it again. And again. I know we’ll have to see it in the future, all over again. But I don’t want to. I want—”  
  
Him to have happiness.  
  
Peace.  
  
Love.  
  
All the things that Hijikata fought for to give to others, not himself.  
  
The tears were happening again. Of course they were. His throat seizes up and he bows his head, ready to hide all of it—  
  
He didn’t expect a pair of arms to encircle him and hug him against another frame, solid and warm.  
  
“K-Kanesan?”  
  
“I know.” Kanesan is looking earnestly out at the forest, but his eyes shine. “I know. But that’s what I don’t want you to leave…Kunihiro, we can miss him together, but there’s only one of you, and I’m not alone like this.”  
  
Horikawa rests his head against Kanesan’s chest, dragging air into his lungs. “Kanesan….”  
  
“It’s not only you.”  
  
It’s not only him.  
  
It’s them. They _daishou._ Hijikata’s pair of swords.  
  
This is their history, as painful as it is.  
  
“Hey…Kanesan.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Horikawa rubs his nose. “A lot happened while I was there. I even learned things about him that I didn’t even know before.”  
  
“Tell me.” Kanesan’s arm loosen, but they remain around Horikawa.  
  
Here, it actually feels like home.

 

**End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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